Gywdion
by Dreamweaver67
Summary: Daniel's search for Merlin's weapon uncovers another of the Ancient's projects. Could the key to wiping out the Ori be found in - A Christmas Carol?


**Gwydion**

All the usual disclaimers apply: Stargate is not mine, none of the characters are mine and I make no money off this little hobby. (It does, however, keep me off the streets and out of trouble. Mostly.)

This is set in season nine, around Christmas of course.

Notes: Gwydion was a Welsh god/enchanter. Illusions, changes, magick are his trademarks. I imagine him being a bit mischievous but definitely not someone you want to irritate. Also, I do not know what Sam Carter's favorite Christmas movie is, but A Christmas Carol is mine. (I like the TNT version with Patrick Stewart best; after all, who does Dickens like an Englishman?)

Many thanks to Whoa Nellie, who not only read through and gave advice on this, but who did not think it at all strange to mix Dickens with SG-1.

Oh, and – "God bless us, every one."

**Gwydion**

Jack looked around his living room. Christmas tree, check. Wrapped gifts underneath, check. Pine wreath on the wall, check. He turned to look through to the dining room. Punch bowl, filled with punch, check. Lit candles shone among the plates of cookies and bowls of chips and dip. He knew there was plenty of beer in the fridge and extra bags of chips and snacks on the counter. He glanced at the clock, pleased to notice that he had half an hour before the annual SG-1 Christmas party was supposed to start. As if on cue, his doorbell rang.

"Right on schedule," he said to the empty room as he went to open the door for Sam. It had been an unspoken arrangement for years that whenever one of them hosted a team get-together the other would arrive slightly early. Not early enough to raise any suspicions, but early enough to give them some time completely alone. Time that had, for Jack at any rate, been spent dreaming that he and Sam were actually a couple and giving the party together. Even though the subterfuge was no longer necessary, they still enjoyed the short time alone together.

Sam smiled at him as the door swung open, the smile that she only ever gave to him. Her arms were filled with wrapped boxes and a plastic grocery bag hung from one wrist.

"Just get off base?" he asked as he took the boxes from her.

"I wanted to finish up with that power regulator," Sam explained, hanging her coat in the closet and following him to the living room. She watched him pile the boxes in an untidy heap on one side of the tree and, shaking her head, handed him the grocery bag while she knelt to gracefully arrange them around the tree. "I wanted to be sure you didn't forget," she told him as he peered curiously into the bag.

Jack laughed. "I'll get a bowl."

He had barely set the bowl of chocolate on the table before Sam grabbed one, deftly twisting off the metallic wrapper. "If you want a kiss, Sam, I can do better than that," Jack told her, tilting his head toward the sweet in her hand.

"I just bet you can," she told him, wrapping her arms around him and lifting her mouth to his. Jack drew her close, savoring the taste of chocolate as he covered her lips with his own. He deepened their kiss, responding to her sigh as she pressed closer to him.

All too soon the doorbell rang, summoning them back to a reality in which other people existed. Within a few minutes, SGC personnel were gathered around the dining room table filling their plates. A smaller group clustered around Jack's tree, examining various ornaments. General Landry was pushing buttons on a remote, filling the room with Christmas music.

Sam waved Jack back as the doorbell rang yet again. She opened the door to find Daniel and Teal'c and ushered them inside. Teal'c nudged Daniel forward, the younger man's attention focused on the pages he held.

"Daniel, is that work?" Sam asked. At the younger man's distracted nod, she snatched the pages from him. "You know if Jack sees them, it'll be straight into the trash. I'll put them away until later."

"Sam, you won't believe it. I was going through some of the stuff we brought from Arthur's treasure and I just ran across this story. Well, it sounds like a story, maybe part of the oral tradition of the day that was written down before it was lost. It's the oddest thing – I could swear that I've heard it before."

"Daniel, we're not still working, are we?" Jack asked, having made his way through his now-crowded house to where his three closest friends stood.

"It's amazing, Jack. I'm sure I've heard this story before, but I can't quite place where or when." Daniel replied, enthusiasm evident in his voice.

Jack shook his head. "You people work too much. This is a party. Do I have to take it away from you?"

"Colonel Carter has already done so," Teal'c replied, turning in response to the doorbell to admit General Hammond.

"General," greeted Jack. "Glad you could make it."

"I was in town and thought I'd stop by. Didn't want to miss the party." George Hammond replied as he gave Sam a quick hug. "How's Washington?"

"Political," Jack told him with a characteristic grimace, drawing him into the living room where Hammond was welcomed warmly by the gathered SGC personnel. Sam handed him a beer she had gotten out of the fridge and the General thanked her with a smile as he joined a conversation with Walter Harriman and Sergeant Siler.

Keeping the table stocked with food and drinks provided Jack with plenty to do during the evening. Several times he noticed Sam, Daniel and Teal'c doing the same thing and was once again thankful for the seamless teamwork they had developed over the years. He lost track of Daniel and Teal'c at one point and was trying to discretely look for them, hoping that Daniel hadn't somehow found the sheaf of papers that Sam had taken from him and secluded himself in a corner with them. Jack knew that when Daniel was deep in a translation or theory, he was very single minded about pursuing it. He was about to ask Sam if she had seen the archeologist when he saw Daniel slip in the front door with grocery bags filled with more snacks, followed by Teal'c with cases of beer and soft drinks. Meeting them in the kitchen, he helped them refill the empty bowls and fridge. There was more to hosting a large gathering than he had thought. Turning to find Sam beside him, he whispered, "Thanks for sending the guys for chips. I didn't expect this many people."

Fighting the urge to kiss him, Sam replied with a smile, "Always plan for twice as many as you expect, especially when you drop in unannounced from Washington and invite everyone in the mess hall. And tell them to pass the word."

"Think they'll go home soon?" Jack managed to ask casually, glad for the years of practice he had had as commander of SG-1. When Sam was so close to him, smiling that bright smile that lit her eyes and Jack's world, he had always had trouble concentrating. Now that he and Sam had come to an understanding, revealing that their feelings were not one-sided, Jack had thought that he might be less affected by her nearness, but such was not the case. If anything, her effect on him was heightened by the knowledge that she loved him as much as he loved her. Jack took great pleasure in the fact that he affected her in the same way, enjoying the blush that crept over her face as she thought of what would happen when the house was empty except for the two of them. He touched her cheek gently before dropping a quick hard kiss on her lips and moving away to join General Landry and a group of officers in the living room. Sam stared after him, surprised at his display of affection in front of their fellow officers.

Sooner than Jack had anticipated, his house began to empty. Anxious for the long holiday weekend to begin, first one group then another thanked Jack and made their way home. Jack made sure that either he or another member of SG-1 spoke with each person as they left, to be sure that no one would try to drive while impaired from the alcohol that had been served. In a much shorter time than Jack had thought possible, only SG-1 and General Hammond remained.

Jack retrieved the cooler he had hidden outside his back door and offered drinks to everyone. Sam grinned as she saw that he had bottles of water for Teal'c and Daniel, wine coolers for her and beer for himself, Hammond and Cameron. He winked mischievously as he paused in front of Daniel, who had somehow retrieved the papers Sam had taken when he arrived and was engrossed in them. Jack nudged him with a bottle of water until Daniel automatically took it.

"Okay, Daniel, what's so fascinating?" Jack asked, resigned to yet another evening lost to some obscure culture that Daniel had discovered. He settled next to Sam on his couch, his arm dropping automatically around her as she snuggled close to him. On the other hand, an evening with Sam curled tight against him was always good in Jack's view.

"We brought back lots of artifacts from Arthur's stronghold in England, including chests of scrolls. Remember?"

"And none of it has gotten the Ori wiped out," Cameron groused.

"Well, no. Not yet," Daniel admitted. "But I think that Merlin was also recording the oral traditions of the early Welsh people. This scroll seems to contain an account of an ancient Welsh god and an encounter he had with a clan chief. The strangest thing is I'm almost positive that I've seen this story before."

"Where?" asked Jack.

"I have no idea." Daniel lapsed into silence, studying the translation he held. The rest of the team looked at each other before Hammond finally spoke.

"Why don't you tell us what it says, son?"

"Oh, right. Well, as you know, Merlin was an Ancient, come back to Earth from Atlantis after the city was lost. He settled in Wales and was working on some sort of weapon to use against the Ori. The Holy Grail, so to speak. When we found this chest of scrolls, I thought that there might be something in it that would tell us where it might be or what it is. Instead, it seems that Merlin was recording the folktales and mythology of the Welsh people. The scrolls are filled with references to various local gods, creation stories, heroic battles, that sort of thing. Christianity was beginning to take root in England and Merlin knew that it was only a matter of time until the polytheist beliefs and stories were lost."

"We know that Christianity did eventually push out the old beliefs, so it's not so strange that Merlin would see that coming and try to save what he could. The Ancients are big on preserving knowledge," Cameron said, with a quick glance at Jack. After having had the Ancients' knowledge downloaded into his mind – twice, Cameron thought that Jack might have some insight into the legends Daniel was reading. Jack smirked and shook his head.

"All gone, thanks to Thor. Nary a story left."

"Oddly, Merlin seems to have been encouraging the spread of Christianity among the Welsh." Daniel continued.

Hammond interrupted, "Why is that odd?"

"Well, because he was recording the stories without any reference to Christianity. The only way the Christian missionaries were able to get any of the Celtic people to accept their new religion was to adopt the sacred traditions and celebrations of the ancient religions they were replacing. Most of the stories were changed to fit into Christianity. That's why we celebrate Christmas in December, to correspond with existing winter solstice festivals. Merlin has recorded the stories in what I think is their original form without alterations. At the end of each, he has notes – 'similar to Beowulf tradition for the Norse, I related David's battle with Goliath and bard added to his tale and will spread as he travels.' Here's another – 'convinced bard that prophecy refers to birth of Christ as true savior of Wales.' There are footnotes like these on each scroll that we have translated so far. Each one shows that Merlin was actively promoting the spread of Christianity."

"So what's so special about this one? You've been working on these for the last few weeks. It's not like you didn't already know a lot of this."

"I know, Jack. I sent you a report after we translated the first couple of scrolls. This one is just like the others at first glance. But Merlin has taken a direct hand in the story itself. It seems to be a situation that he manipulated, which makes it unlike anything we've come across yet. And I'm sure I've heard this story before. Not in the exact same context, of course. I just can't figure out where or when I heard it." Daniel's frustration was evident.

"All right, I'm curious," Sam said. "What's the story? And why would Merlin get involved? Isn't it specifically forbidden for Ancients to directly affect human development?"

"Yes, it is and yet Merlin seems to have been very busy doing it. Maybe he thought that the rest of the Ancients were too busy or too dispersed to do anything to him. Nothing seems to have happened to him as a result of his interference."

"That is most unlike what we know of the Ancients. Perhaps this story will shed some light on the situation."

"Right, Teal'c, the story." Daniel flipped rapidly through the pages. "Dafydd was chief of a clan of Welshmen, probably in what is now Snowdonia. He was not a popular chief, the story goes, but hard and uncaring." He paused, translating the next section before continuing.

"Dafydd?" Jack asked, trying to mimic Daniel's pronunciation.

"We would pronounce it David. Let's see, Merlin had heard stories of Dafydd's thoughtless cruelty and decided that he should do something to change him. Merlin appears to have taken on the appearance of Gwydion, a Welsh god and enchanter who is associated with illusions and change. So, one night during the winter solstice, Gwydion appeared to Dafydd in the semblance of a childhood friend and spoke to him. He showed Dafydd the consequences of his actions, not just in his own life, but in other lives. Here he writes about how Dafydd's decision to attack a neighboring clan for some slight unnamed offense caused one of his warrior's young sons to be crippled. The boy, um, bore his injury with little complaint and tried to help others in the clan as much as he could until his death about a year later. Gwydion was able to show Dafydd how his own desire to be chief had pushed people away, including a girl he had cared for and his own family, until now there was no one in the clan who really cared about him. Merlin goes on to say-" Daniel broke off suddenly, flipping back to the page he had just turned.

"What?" asked Jack, now intrigued by the story.

"If I am translating this right, Merlin says that Gwydion was able to take Dafydd into the future and show him what would happen to him if he did not change. If that's true, it lends credence to the Arthurian stories that say that Merlin could travel in time."

"We know that time travel is possible," Sam pointed out. "As an Ancient, Merlin must have known that, too, and may have had some way to easily control where and when he went in time."

"One theory says that Merlin aged backwards in time, that he actually predicted the future by remembering it," Cameron added. "I don't think that it's true, but it is a way for the ancient Britons to explain how Merlin knew the future. Time travel was probably a little harder to get people to accept."

"Since Merlin was using the persona of Gwydion, it's also possible that it was all an elaborate illusion. At the beginning of the scroll, he makes it a point to explain that Gwydion is a Welsh god of changes and illusion and therefore, deception. Either way, it seems to have worked. The scroll concludes with several eyewitness accounts of Dafydd's changed behavior, including one from the crippled boy, who did not die as Gwydion had said he would." Daniel continued to peruse the scroll but offered no other information.

"Why would Merlin behave in such a way?" asked Teal'c.

"I don't know. All he tells us is that he didn't like Dafydd's behavior and thought it should be changed."

"Was Dafydd someone we should know? I mean, did he have any significant effect on history somehow? Or have a child or grandchild who did?" asked Sam.

"Not that I can find," Daniel replied, frustrated. "And no Arthurian connection, either, Cameron. But there is something – some link I can't quite find."

Sam suddenly started laughing. "Dickens! A Christmas Carol. It's almost the same story."

"Sam, I know it's your favorite Christmas movie, but I think you've watched it one too many times this year," Jack told her.

"No, she could be right," Hammond agreed. "Dafydd is Scrooge. There are a lot of similarities. Gwydion is able to show Dafydd events much like the three ghosts. Daniel, do you know of any other accounts of this story? Could Dickens have heard it somewhere and adapted it when he wrote A Christmas Carol?"

"I haven't been able to find any other references to this story anywhere that I've looked. It could have continued to be passed on orally, of course, but it would be strange that no one tried to write it down until the 1800s."

"So it's possible?" Jack asked. At Daniel's nod, he continued, "So now what? Does it help us in any way find Merlin's weapon?"

"Or is there anything in A Christmas Carol that can help?" Cameron added. "Hey, I know it's a long shot, but if Dickens did hear this and decide to use it as a basis for his story, maybe there's something in what he heard that can help, something he may have written without realizing what it was."

"Okay, people, when's the last time any of you read A Christmas Carol?" Hammond asked, looking around. Jack, Cameron and Daniel all wore identical looks of mingled horror and panic.

"I was not aware that there was more than a movie," Teal'c replied calmly. "Is there a copy of this book in the base library?"

"I have a copy you can borrow," Sam offered. "I read it a couple of weeks ago, but I wasn't looking for anything related to Merlin's weapon. I'll reread it."

"I do not wish to take your book, Colonel Carter," Teal'c protested.

"That's okay, T," Jack assured him hastily. "Take her book."

Sam nodded when Teal'c looked to her for confirmation. "I think I have four or five copies, actually. I can lend one to you, Cameron and Jack. Daniel, you should probably keep searching for other versions of the story with Gwydion or any similar story that Dickens could have encountered before he wrote his, anything that could have influenced him and see if there's anything that could relate to Merlin. Anyone have anything going on tomorrow? Okay, then let's meet back here tomorrow night and see who's found what."

Jack looked down at the small blonde woman still leaning against his shoulder as she issued her orders in a crisp confident tone. "Um, I really don't read all that fast, Sam. Maybe you could just read it and tell us about it."

"We really need everyone to read this on their own. What we're looking for, if it's there, could be something that I overlook just because I'm very familiar with the story. We need your perspective. And yours, Cameron. And Teal'c's. That makes it less likely that we'll miss something."

Hammond smiled to himself as the rest of SG-1 gave in to Sam's unassailable logic. At times like these, he found himself thinking of his old friend Jacob and his no-nonsense approach to command. Evidently the trait had bred true in Jacob's daughter. George Hammond couldn't help but think that Jacob would be proud of her professionally and pleased that she had finally found the happiness with Jack that she deserved and that had been denied her so long because of their shared profession.

Jack found a copy of A Christmas Carol on his pillow that night. He knew Sam had handed copies to Cameron and Teal'c as they left his house earlier that evening, to Hammond's evident amusement. He regarded the worn book stoically before setting it on the nightstand. Turning out the light, he slid under the blankets and reached for Sam, pulling her close to him.

When he opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he saw was Scrooge cowering from Marley's ghost on the book cover. "After breakfast," he muttered, moving to get ready for the day.

Sam stepped into Jack's kitchen to see him leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, as he sipped his coffee, her battered hardback Dickens novel in one hand. She slid an arm around his waist as she peered at the page to see where he was in the story.

"Hi," he greeted her, putting down book and coffee so he could pull her close for a long kiss.

"Glad to see you've started that. It won't take long to read," she told him when he finally released her. As she turned to pour herself a cup of coffee, Jack spotted a paperback version tucked in her back pocket.

"You're serious about this, looking for an anti-Ori weapon in Dickens, aren't you?"

"It's a long shot. A very long shot," she admitted. "But Daniel seems to think it's possible, so we should check it out. We've gotten lucky on much slimmer chances before."

He knew she was right, so by midmorning he was stretched on the couch in his living room, Sam cuddled next to him, both of them deep in the story of Ebenezer Scrooge's reclamation. Jack became so engrossed in the book that he didn't realize when he drifted off to sleep.

"I have come so that you will not suffer my terrible fate," the ghost of Marley told him. Only it wasn't Marley's face, but the First Prime of Apophis. "You will be haunted by three spirits. Mark their words well."

"Humbug," Jack said as the First Prime drifted out of the open window.

He started awake in his own bed, hearing the clock mark the one o'clock hour. He listened for a moment, then, "Nothing," he said aloud, turning to go back to sleep. Light suddenly filled the room. Disgruntled, Jack sat up, shielding his face from the brilliance that shone all around George Hammond.

"Are you the spirit whose coming was foretold by the First Prime?" he asked.

"Walk with me," Hammond replied.

"I'd rather sleep," Jack grumbled, even as he climbed out of bed. Startled to find himself clad in his blue fatigues, Jack followed the glowing Hammond into the adjoining room, only to find himself in his old high school. People he knew streamed around him as the hall filled with students moving between classes.

"Hey, there's Stubby and Mark and Jason. I'd forgotten how big they were, defensive linemen, each of them. And there's Matt, no athletic ability but he was always there trying. Never would have passed chemistry without him, either."

"Shadows of what has been. Come." Hammond led him to the principal's office. "Why were you here?"

"Just a prank. Only I didn't really do anything. Brian should have been the one here, but he didn't get caught. He just knew that I wouldn't turn him in."

"He cost you a place on the basketball team."

"And was my dad ever ticked! He had his hopes set on my getting a basketball scholarship, thought it was the only way I'd ever make anything of myself."

"It was an unhappy Christmas that year."

"Yeah, that was the point when Dad and I really stopped talking. At least for a lot of years."

The school swirled around them, becoming a winding drive through a tree-lined lane.

"Oh, no. I don't want to see this."

"You must, son."

"I know what happened and why. I screwed up and I still regret it. What's the point in reliving it?"

"You must learn. Look."

Jack groaned, "Kate."

Instead of the long dark hair that Jack expected, the young woman coming down the lane toward them had Sam's blonde hair and blue eyes. Helpless to move, he listened in silence as his younger self expounded on the virtues of gaining power, in the guise of obtaining security, and of exploiting others in order to advance himself. Jack felt his heart crack all over as Kate turned tearfully away and fled back down the lane as his younger self watched stoically.

Jack shook himself nearly awake. He had never been able to bear Sam's tears. Hammond's voice broke in, drawing him deeper into the dream.

"She truly loved you and always felt betrayed."

"Yep."

"You really believed what you told her."

"At the time I did. I was wrong. But eventually we would have broken up. She wouldn't have been able to stand a military career. It was best that it happened when it did."

"You mean you didn't want to be tied down to her or anyone else. Misplaced pride. "

"That, too. Look, are we done? Can I just go home?"

The lane swirled around them, leaving only darkness behind. Jack gasped at the sudden lack of light, forcing himself to calmness. With a composure he didn't feel, he opened his eyes, only to find himself in his own bed, in his own room. A quick glance around reassured him that it was still night and he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. Suddenly he noticed the light from the hall leaking under his closed bedroom door. Knowing he had left no lights on, with some trepidation, he climbed out of bed to investigate.

He followed the light into his living room. There, ensconced on his couch, was Teal'c. Like Hammond, he appeared surrounded by a nimbus of glowing light. He regarded Jack with typical stoicism.

"Um, Teal'c, what's up?" Jack asked cautiously.

"Have you not met with others of my kind?" Teal'c crossed his arms on his chest, his shoulders stretching the military issue t-shirt he wore.

"Yeah, sure, you know I have. What's going on?"

"Come."

Jack sighed. "Right."

Once again his house swirled around them, becoming a dismal apartment building. A TV blared from one apartment, competing with the cries of a baby in another.

"Why are we here?" Jack asked, positive he had never been to this place in his life.

In answer, Teal'c opened a door and motioned Jack through. Stepping inside, Jack found himself in a tiny kitchen in which a dark haired woman bustled from stove to table. He wedged himself into a corner where he hoped he was out of the way and watched quietly, Teal'c next to him.

A child Jack hadn't noticed before called from her perch in the window, "Here comes Dad with Timmy!"

"All right. Come away from the window and wash your hands for dinner." The woman moved confidently around the kitchen, assembling the meager meal that she had prepared. As she opened and closed doors in her preparations, Jack had unobstructed views into the fridge and cabinets and was surprised at the variety of foods she had managed to produce from the emptiness he saw within. She finally turned toward him and he caught his breath. Even though he had never seen her, only read descriptions in reports, he knew this woman. Vala Mal Doran, her face now pinched with worry, hastened to put dishes on the table as the apartment door opened to admit Daniel Jackson, carrying a young boy piggyback- style on his back.

The child, who looked to be no more than eight years old, brandished a set of crutches as he laughed at something Daniel said as he lifted him to the ground and steadied him until Timmy had balanced on his crutches, giving Jack a glimpse of the metal braces that encased his skinny legs. As he moved off with his sister, Daniel leaned in to kiss Vala's cheek.

In a matter of a few moments, Vala had marshaled her family to the table and was filling plates. The conversation, which had begun with general topics, quickly turned to more personal matters.

"I hope you were able to relax some this morning," Vala told Daniel as the two children discussed the relative merits of the beans versus the meat on their plates.

"We had a good walk," Daniel told her. "Timmy has some very interesting ideas. All the reading he does really gives him things to think about."

"He gets that from you, my dear," Vala told him fondly. "I just wish you were more appreciated at work."

"It's not that I'm not appreciated, it's just that he doesn't see the value in what I do."

She snorted in reply. "And when he's in a bind, who is it he calls to get him out of it? Is there really nothing else that you can do?"

Daniel sighed, a resigned, defeated sound. "We can't risk a change. The insurance we have now pays for so much of Timmy's treatments. You know we haven't found any other company that would, especially as it would be considered a pre-existing condition. I have to stay where I am, for his sake."

Jack looked at the specter of Teal'c beside him. "Are there any other options for Timmy? Anything that can be done?"

"Nothing that they can pay for. There is no one to help them."

Jack's eyes followed the boy's movements as he helped clear the table and followed his sister into the apartment's living room. The sounds of childish laughter carried to where the adults continued their quiet conversation.

"What will happen to Timmy?"

"If the future remains unchanged, the boy will not survive. Come," said Teal'c and led a thoughtful Jack from the room. The apartment building swirled around them, leaving them in a brightly lit room filled with familiar faces.

"He wouldn't come anyway," one bold young lieutenant asserted. "The mighty don't mingle with us lowly personnel."

"Yeah, they forget that they used to be lieutenants, too"

"Well, he can stay holed up in his fancy schmancy office all by himself. We'll have more fun here than he will there all by himself and what does he care anyway?"

"They only invite me out of obligation," Jack said softly.

"Is that all you see? Even the lowliest warrior takes courage from the presence of his leader."

"If I was there, it would put a damper on their whole party," Jack said stubbornly. "Everyone always feels like they have to put on their game faces if senior officers are present. Trust me, I know."

"Is that so?" Teal'c asked, indicating a group of personnel on the opposite side of the room. The group was remarkable because people of all ranks, male and female, were engaged in a lively conversation. The senior officer, a woman who wore the oak leaves of a Lieutenant Colonel, was laughing with a very young Captain. Clearly, neither felt constrained by the wide gap in rank, nor did anyone else in the group. A dark haired man in civilian dress dropped an arm possessively around the Colonel's shoulder and she turned her face, still laughing, up to him. Jack felt the force of that smile as if it were a blow.

"Colonel Shanahan does not seem to feel that her presence hampers the other individuals here. I believe that they feel no such constraints."

Without realizing it, Jack had moved closer to where Sam stood. He regarded her somberly, feeling his heart break again, as painfully as it had on the day Sam had first showed him the ring Pete had bought her.

"Carter is different," he said. "She always knows how to make people comfortable. I never knew how to do that."

"She learned it from you."

Jack shook his head, unwilling to believe, but wishing that Teal'c's statement were true. Hungrily he watched her face, letting the conversation wash over him mostly unnoticed. A passing Major paused briefly to ask Sam if she knew if General O'Neill was coming. Sam shook her head, answered the Major with a smile, but Jack had seen regret flash in her eyes before she hastily concealed it.

Teal'c dropped a large hand gently on Jack's shoulder and the room swirled around them. Jack blinked and found himself in the deserts of the Middle East, watching as soldiers of all ranks worked together to distribute gifts to children who had been displaced. He found himself in Nebraska, as a troop of Girl Scouts from an inner city school raised money for a food pantry. Then, unaccountably, he found himself on a hillside in Wales, watching as warriors, his warriors, ambushed an unsuspecting clan, watched as young boys, too young for battle and incompletely trained, were injured brutally, crippled for his pride. It had been his, Dafydd's, idea to set up the ambush as part of their training, to expose them to better trained, more experienced warriors. And they lay dying, not a single one uninjured. He hardened his heart to them, shifted the blame to those who had been directly responsible for their training, ignoring the fact that he had overruled all their objections.

Teal'c regarded him expressionlessly.

"Take me home," Jack gritted. "I've had enough."

"Pride is a great barrier, if you choose not to open your eyes to those around you."

"Home. Now."

Teal'c stared at Jack, fading into the hillside until he was completely gone.

"Hey," Jack called into the surrounding woods, "you can't leave me here!"

Turning his head from side to side, he could find no sign of any other person. Resigning himself to finding his own way home, he looked to the night sky to get his bearings. Suddenly he felt another presence and turned to find a shrouded figure beckoning to him. Throwing up his hands, he started in the direction the figure indicated. The now familiar swirling overtook him. When it cleared, he found himself in the mess hall at the SGC.

"Did you hear what happened?" a Captain Jack did not know asked as he seated himself at a table already mostly filled.

"Yeah. Do you know any details?"

"Just that he didn't show up for work and they sent a couple of guys over when they couldn't get hold of him."

"So what happens now?"

"No idea."

"Who didn't show up?" Jack asked. "Who did they find? What happened?"

The hooded figure turned its head toward him, but made no response.

The mess swirled around them. When it stopped, Jack found himself in a darkened hospital room. Vala was sitting next to a bed, holding Timmy's small hand. Daniel stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders absently, his face a mask. Timmy did not move; the monitors behind his head were dark and silent. Jack had seen death often enough to know that the boy was gone, even without seeing the silent tears stream down Vala's face.

"We'll never forget him," Daniel whispered.

"Never," Vala repeated fiercely.

Jack turned away, no stranger to their grief, unable to watch. "Could nothing be done?" he asked harshly. "Nothing, ever?"

The hooded spirit did not move, its face hidden deep within the folds of its robe.

"We know the future isn't set. If things change in the past, in the present, the future changes. I've seen it. What needs to change so Timmy lives? Show me. And while you're at it, who did they find – the man who didn't show up at the SGC?"

The room swirled around them and they were in the mess hall surrounded by grieving SGC personnel. Quickly Jack moved from scene to scene, in a series of dizzying swirls of light. The most painful one was of General Landry turning from a casket, handing a folded flag to a teary-eyed Sam, flanked protectively by Cameron, Daniel and Teal'c.. Finally Jack knew it was him who had not shown up to the SGC. Jack looked at the spirit, opening his mouth to demand again how to change the future when the scene changed, becoming once more the hillside in Wales. Only instead of an ambush carried out by untrained boys, the encounter between the two clans was a successful trade, fur and food for salt. Another swirl of the surroundings and Jack found himself at the base party, standing next to Sam, part of the celebration. He jerked himself roughly awake as he heard the hooded spirit speak in Walter Harriman's voice.

"Only the past remains unchanged."

Momentarily disoriented, Jack automatically tightened his arms around Sam. She had also fallen asleep and her response was to snuggle closer to his chest. Taking a deep breath, Jack willed his heartbeat to return to normal. Almost before he had succeeded, Sam opened her eyes and looked straight into his.

"You okay?"

He shook his head to help clear it, still feeling like a strange combination of Scrooge, Dafydd and himself. "I just had the weirdest dream."

By the time Jack had recounted his dream to Daniel, Teal'c, Cameron and General Hammond that evening, he had already decided that if he never heard mention of A Christmas Carol again, it would be too soon.

No one had any new insight to add. Merlin had been working on a weapon that could kill Ancients, but he had left no clues to its whereabouts or workings in the oral tradition he recorded. The two projects had been completely separate.

"The only thing I found about Dickens was he was disillusioned with what he saw as the commercialization of Christmas in England." Daniel told them. "He saw the holiday getting lost, the meaning minimalized by the growth of industry in mid 1800s London. At the same time, the number of people living in truly horrible conditions was growing. Having grown up in a family much like the Crachits, Dickens was frustrated that no one seemed to care about either. He had also just visited one of the free schools for poor children and been truly horrified at the conditions, which were so much better than conditions for the children who worked in factories. The plot stemmed from several long nighttime walks that he took, taking stock of himself and his writing. One of his friends described the story as seizing Dickens with a "strange mastery." Once he started writing, he finished it, from first draft to published, in six weeks."

"Could Merlin have influenced this "strange mastery" that is described?" asked Teal'c.

Daniel shook his head. "No way to know for sure. It seems to have worked, though. The story was immediately popular. People became more sensitive to the poverty around them and, as we know, Christmas is in no danger of becoming a forgotten holiday."

"If Dickens thought it was commercialized then, wow, imagine what he'd say now." Cameron shook his head.

"So we're back to where we were. No new ideas about what Merlin's weapon might be or where he hid it. Not even a hidden message in my dream." Jack groused.

"Sometimes a dream is just a dream," Hammond told him.

"At least we all got to take a little time and read a great book," Sam told them, unfazed by the groans and eye rolling her comment elicited.

Later, as they lay in bed, Jack looked at Sam, remembering how it felt in his dream to hear her called Shanahan.

"Sam, do you think I'm too standoffish? Especially now that I'm in Washington?"

"I wondered how long before you asked that," she told him, a smile in her voice. "No, Jack, you're not. We've all had COs who were distant and inaccessible. You're not one of those. Every person on that base knows that he or she can come to you at any time if they need to. They all know they can call your Washington office, tell them where they're calling from and you will drop whatever you're doing to talk to them. And a lot of them have. Every time, you do as much as you can to help."

"I keep wondering if my pride is a great barrier. In my dream, one of the ghosts said that to me. If I let it blind me to what's around me. I just want to be sure."

"Jack, I think every person at the SGC would gladly give his life if you asked it. Not because it's their duty to or because it's the right thing to do, but because they trust you. They believe in you that much. And if you were too proud or overbearing or distant, they wouldn't feel that way. Not just me or Daniel or Teal'c, but everyone. Washington or not, you're here for us. Would you quit worrying? You pay attention to everything going on around you. And everyone. You're a great leader. Which I guess you wouldn't be if you didn't worry about this kind of stuff."

Somewhat reassured, Jack was quiet for a while. Sam thought he had fallen asleep and was drifting off when he spoke again.

"Next year, can we just watch The Simpson's Christmas episode?"

She laughed quietly and snuggled closer. "Yeah, sure, yabetcha, Jack."

"Cool."


End file.
